


Sofia Curtis, Ace Detective

by lextenou



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Detective Noir, F/F, Inspired by Old Time Radio Shows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 15:38:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13193190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lextenou/pseuds/lextenou
Summary: Sofia ain't exactly known for being shy. Especially not once she knows she's got a lead.





	Sofia Curtis, Ace Detective

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by two weeks of listening to old time radio noir. Those bruisers Sam Spade and Phillip Marlowe knew what the deal was. They also got knocked on the head a lot. Originally posted elsewhere in the dim mists of time prior to AO3.

I'd been working this beat for a while. At first I was a white coated lab monkey, before I got tired of the damn politics. I turned in the microscope for a shiny badge and an automatic. Didn't take long for my partner and I to get a rep. Some of it was his fault, sure. Honest guy. That's what caused him problems in Jersey, that damn rat trap.

I'm glad he came out here. The desert, so much like my mother's native land - away from the cities, that is - it does him good. I'd hate to see such a good cop torn down, but they've come close.

I've told that man more than I'd ever dream of telling anyone else. Course, it probably helps that we spend most of our time together. Stakeouts, patrols, interrogations...

It was a stakeout one cold and lonely night in February when he wormed the truth out of me. I'd never dared to breathe it aloud and Brass, with his pit bull cussedness, wore me down into admitting it.

The rat fink.

It was cold that night, bloody cold. I was sure I'd have frozen my tits off if I hadn't worn that long sleeve thermal my da had ordered for me special when I graduated college.

Jim had gone for coffee, bringing me the lackluster brew of the corner 7-11. It was drinkable - after half a ton of sugar was added. Sickly sweet and burningly hot, it was a welcome island of blessed heat in the steel and glass box we sat in.

Anyone who's never lived in a desert has no idea how bloody cold the nights can get. The burning heat of the sun disappears quickly, dropping the temperature by tens of degrees - all dependent on cloud cover. That day had been clear as a fresh water stream.

Our attention wasn't so much on the bloody cold as it was the palatial hovel half a block up. It had that delightful air of decay around it, the kind that I knew was going to make me wish for a gas mask and a biohazard suit when we raided the dump.

Jim was blowing on his nuclear waste that barely passed as coffee, so I about choked when he just laid it out.

"You've had the eye for Sara for a while, haven't you?" His gruff tone rattled me almost as much as his words did.

"I never said I had a thing for Sara." I took a gulp of my coffee, not because I wanted it, but because I desperately needed something to do that wasn't fidgeting. He wasn't looking at me, but he didn't need to. I'd perfected the "look without looking" move, too.

"She's a good person."

"Mmm." That was good, noncommittal.

"She's a lot more fragile than she looks."

No, really? And here I'd been thinking that wounded vulnerability I'd seen was actually homicidal mania. "I know."

"She's a good friend."

"When she lets you in." Aye, there lay the rub, didn't it. Was I in? Could I ever be in?

Staring at the dash, I observed my partner without looking at him. How to pry without being obvious...

"It's pointless, you know."

"What?"

"She's still hung up on an ex."

"Really." I tried to sound like he was telling me yesterday's lotto numbers.

"Some blonde. She doesn't talk about it much. It was in San Francisco."

"You don't say." Hm. so she has a thing for blondes. If the ex was also female and a cop, I'm golden. Can't be too obvious though. Jim'll know.

Not that he doesn't already.

"Yeah, I've heard some interesting things about San Francisco."

"I bet."

He doesn't say anything, sipping his coffee.

Shit.

He's going to make me ask, the bastard.

"You've known her for a while."

Jim laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah." Good, good...he didn't suspect.

Shit, what was I thinking? Of course he did. The bastard already knew.

Ah, well. Might as well get what I could, then.

"Any advice, then?"

The smirk he gave made me want to beat him bloody. "The ex was a cop. You don't need any extra help."

"She has a thing for authority."

Jim chuckled. "Never heard it put that way. I always figured the badge sent her over the edge, but that makes a hell of a lot more sense." He sipped his rapidly cooling coffee. "Don't lose your head."

I laughed, low and hollow. "Never have before."

"You've never dated Sara, either."

"Mmm." We sat in silence, watching the deathly stillness of the house down the block. We don't discuss Sara again until the end of our shift when we're tossing the crushed remains of our lunches into the dumpster in the alley. Just like he'd done earlier, he almost gave me a heart attack when he laid it out.

"You're actually serious about her."

The soft accusation chilled me more than the stiff wind blowing in off the desert.

"I never said that."

He laughed. "You are."

"What makes you say that?" Did I have a bloody tell?

"No reason." He strode away, back to the car. Without looking, he tossed the keys at me. I caught them one handed and followed the infuriating man down the alley.

I bit my tongue until I started up the car, ready to get the hell away from the tenements.

"I've never said I wanted anything serious from anybody."

"Right."

"Why should she be different?"

"She's Sara."

Shit.

Illogical and completely irrefutable...just like my fascination with her.

"If you're thinking of asking her out, like I said, it's no use. Whatever part of her that's not still hung up on her ex is hung up on Grissom. You wouldn't have a prayer."

I laughed. That surprised him.

"Jim, if I let little things like that get in my way, I'd never date."

"So you'll drop her as soon as she's interested in you?"

"What? No!"

"You do want a serious relationship."

"Jesus Christ, Jim, what are you, her father?"

"Only if I'd been eight when she was conceived."

"That is disgusting."

"You're the one that started it!"

"Jim...shut up."

\---

It was past six when we got to the station. I parked in the pool lot and told Jim my goodbyes. I was past ready to leave police work for the day.

There's something about the monotonous boredom of sitting in a car doing nothing for eight hours...it makes me antsy. I start thinking things that aren't healthy.

Things like taking Sara on one of the evidence tables, her dark hair spread on the lighted surface, backlit perfection.

That would be beyond stupid. If someone walking by didn't see us, the cameras would.

I went to see her anyway.

What can I say? It must be an addiction.

She was bent over a microscope, her face hidden behind a veil of dark brown. The loose white lab coat hid the killer curves I knew lurked beneath her gregarious bookworm exterior.

She looked hot enough to get her own spread in a skin mag.

"Gotcha."

The soft triumphant statement startled me. She couldn't have seen me watching her, she hadn't raised her head from the microscope. She had to be talking about whatever case she was working.

"Walkenburg, you are going down."

No wonder she was excited enough to talk to herself. She'd been carrying the Walkenburg case for almost a year, and so far every scrap of evidence had been useless or excluded. I hadn't even been aware there were that many technicalities in existence.

"Are congratulations in order?'

Her head snapped up so quickly I expected to hear her neck crack.

"Detective Curtis! I didn't see you."

A lazy grin was the only answer I let myself make. She ducked her head, shuffling her papers and beginning to clean her workspace.

"Did you need something, Detective?"

I laughed, low and gutturally rich. I don't think she realized that I saw her shiver.

"Company that isn't Brass."

She shot a questioning glance at me. "Stake out getting to be too much for you in your old age?"

"Hardly. You coming or did you want to buy your own dinner?"

She grinned at me, her smile wide enough to split her face. "If you're paying, I'll be ready in ten."

A sardonic salute and I stepped away from the doorway.

Nine minutes and fifty two seconds later, I was back in the driver's seat. In my own car, this time, at least. My prelim notes and shift report had been done in five minutes. Tomorrow I'd have to go over them again, but for now, the crabbed shorthand I'd scribbled would suffice to jog my memory. Jim had the list of plates we'd seen so I didn't have to worry about that.

Work wasn't on my mind as the ten minute mark came and went. No, my entire focus was on the glass double doors that guarded the side entrance of the police station.

The seconds slowly ticked by, my frequent glances at my watch starting to annoy me. It only took her two minutes and forty three seconds longer than she'd said before I saw her slight frame backlit by the harsh flourescents of the station.

She spotted me quickly. I didn't realize she knew my car. I probably shouldn't have been surprised.

Her legs ate up the asphalt, bringing her to the passenger door. She slipped in and smiled at me.

"Where to?"

I smiled and started the car.

Where to, indeed.


End file.
